No I in Team
by LuciusDivius
Summary: Wilson and Cuddy trick House into going to a team building weekend in order to save his job. Some Wilson and Cuddy bashing.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, I know I have two other stories in the works but ... here's another!

House had been manipulated into a 'working vacation' and rode in the back seat of the car, listening to his iPod and playing his video game. He hadn't wanted to come at all but Cuddy had insisted, even going so far as to put his whole team on a two week enforced vacation. Something was up, he knew it. He glanced up as he felt the car slow down after turning off the main highway and was surprised to see they were on a narrow two lane road, winding up into the mountains.

"This is where the conference is?" House said, startling both Cuddy and Wilson who had thought he'd fallen asleep. "Who the hell schedules a conference in the middle of nowhere?"

"It's a very nice retreat," Wilson countered, sidestepping the question. "Lots of amenities even you might enjoy."

"Yeah, right," House answered, exasperated but he lapsed back into silence and his game. When they finally arrived at the retreat, he climbed stiffly out of the car and walked around to loosen up his muscles while Wilson wrangled their luggage out of the trunk. His first clue that something was really off was the circle of cabins that greeted them instead of a hotel. Wilson led House to one of the cabins while Cuddy headed toward another.

The inside of the cabin was comfortable but sparsely furnished. There was no phone and no TV in the room much to House's great dismay.

"Wilson, what the hell is going on?" he demanded, standing still in the center of the cabin while Wilson put their luggage by the beds. Spying a folder labeled 'Itinerary' on the desk, he snatched it up and rifled through it, looking more and more incredulous as he did.

"You dragged me up here for some touchy-feely team building seminar? Are you serious? Do I look like a team player to you? And you didn't even let me bring my team!" he added in an aggravated tone of voice.

"No, you aren't a team player, that's the whole purpose of this weekend. To try to drum a little bit of team into you. And no, we didn't bring your team for two reasons; one, they are already a team that works well with each other and two, you'd use them to get out of participating and taking this seriously," Wilson answered in an equally aggravated tone.

"House, the board of trustees is ready to get rid of you, tenured or not. They have enough votes to revoke your tenure. Mine and Cuddy's lobbying for you isn't enough now that you came down so hard on that donor's family when you handled their case. The only thing that delayed the vote was this retreat and your mandatory attendance and participation. So you need to decide whether you want to man up for a three day team building retreat, which we both know you can do if you want to, or you can decide to give up your job. Your choice," Wilson said sharply and headed into the bathroom to freshen up and get changed.

House snorted derisively and plopped down onto one of the beds. He hated the whole concept of these team building exercises. If it weren't for the threat of losing his tenure which would make it simple to get fired, he wouldn't bother to stay. But despite his complaints, he wanted this job. He knew he'd never get the freedom to run his department largely the way he chose anywhere else. He no longer believed Cuddy's assertion that no one else would hire him but it would mean completely starting over and involve more ass kissing than he had in him now. He'd gotten a letter from a lawyer about an inheritance from Rowan Chase, which had completely stunned him, but there were plenty of conditions attached to it, one of which was to keep Chase on his team. Not a problem for him but it could be one if he had to look for another hospital willing to take the risk of hiring House. Or taking on the responsibility and expense of opening a private practice with practicing credentials at a hospital.

With a deep sigh he fixed Wilson with a glare when he emerged from the bathroom. "This totally sucks and you're going to pay for tricking me into this. And I'm not doing the 'trust fall' with anyone because you know I don't trust any of you to catch me. Who else is coming to this weekend's fun festivities?" he asked sarcastically.

Wilson reeled off several names, most of which made House groan in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? Those jerks would just as soon see me fired and I sure as hell don't want to spend a weekend playing nice with them."

"Well, too bad," Wilson answered shortly. "Play nice or start working on your resume. I told you, it's your choice."

"Geez are you on the rag this week or what?" House grumbled, heading into the bathroom himself for a hot shower to loosen his leg up.

The first time the group was getting together was half an hour before dinner that evening. House delayed leaving for the meeting until the last possible moment, hoping to wiggle out of the exercise but Wilson refused to play the game and left on time, leaving House behind. He considered not going at all but he couldn't be sure that he might actually lose tenure and therefore his job. Finally he heaved himself up and made his way to the eating hall where the rest of the group was already gathered. One of the facilitators nodded a greeting when he entered the hall, handing him a name badge. Someone was already speaking and he made his way to the only empty seat. Unfortunately it was not at Wilson or Cuddy's table but with Simmons, ER dept. head, Ann Parks, pediatrics dept. head and Blackburn, psychiatric dept. head. He held back a grimace as he took his seat at the table, keeping his eyes on the speaker and avoiding eye contact with any of the others. He glanced down briefly and realized that far from being coincidental, he'd been assigned this seat. This was going to be a long weekend. Parks had an intense dislike for House, Simmons was 50/50 on any given day, depending on whether diagnostics was trolling for patients or refusing a potential referral by ER. Blackburn he didn't really know. They'd met a couple of times, mostly through a neurology consult but through Foreman.

"We'll be kicking off the weekend with a getting acquainted activity," the speaker was saying. "Each person at the table will introduce themselves to their table mates, who will be your partners for the weekend, but from the perspective of your best friend. There are cards at each plate with the prompts for you to share with each other. Dinner will start serving in ten minutes which should allow everyone the chance to introduce themselves."

House pulled in a deep bracing breath and picked up the index card to glance over the questions, as did the others. Simmons was the first to start.

"I would like to introduce Joseph Simmons. Joe likes action movies, Italian food and stock car racing. On his day off, he usually meets up with his friends for tennis or racquetball. Some of his dislikes are opera and bowling. His pet peeves are having carts packed differently by each shift and people who leave shopping carts in parking spaces on rainy days. The funniest thing that ever happened to Joe was when the entire ER shift wore glasses with fake mustaches on his birthday last year."

"I would like to introduce Ann Parks. Ann likes country music, roller coasters, and football. On her day off, she usually takes 20 km bike rides. Some of her dislikes are boxing, Thai food and horseracing. Her pet peeve is things that are overly flowery. The funniest thing that ever happened to Ann was when her college roommates wrapped everything in her dorm room with baby dinosaur wrapping paper."

House smirked just a bit at the others introductions but it was now his turn from the direction they were going around the table. He kept his eyes on the index card while he spoke. "I'd like to introduce Greg House. House likes jazz and blues music, Chinese takeout and sports of any kind. On his day off, he usually reads medical journals and plays the piano. Some of his dislikes are working the clinic and chick flicks. His pet peeve is anyone messing with things in his office and especially on his desk. The funniest thing that ever happened to House was when an elderly patient wrote him a love poem."

Each of his tablemates smiled at the love poem incident, Simmons outright laughed. He'd been there when Wilson read the poem aloud at the nurses' station.

Blackburn chuckled and picked up his index card. "I'd like to introduce Cyrus Blackburn. Cyrus likes instrumental music, both mystical and big band style, a great steak and seafood place, and a game of football or rugby. On his day off, Cyrus enjoys working out in the gym and pickup games as well as bowling, darts or cards. Some of his dislikes are beer of any kind and deliberately taking advantage of another person. One of Cyrus' pet peeves is wrinkled, run down clothing. The funniest thing that ever happened to Cyrus was getting a gorilla singing telegram for his birthday."

As everyone was finishing up the wait staff began to serve dinner and soon the room had a low hum of conversation and light laughter. House sat silent at his table, picking at the food on his plate as the other three talked about the ice breaker exercise they'd just completed. All three were teasing out more information about each other and adding some more details. Simmons and Parks shared several stories about their personal lives and some work stories with Blackburn, who replied in kind, but he kept glancing over at House. He didn't like how easily the other two excluded the man nor the way House determinedly kept his eyes fixed on his plate and ignored them right back. That wasn't what this whole weekend was supposed to be about.

"So, House, was that love poem a case of unrequited love? Did you turn the poor lady down?" Blackburn asked at a pause in Simmons and Parks conversation.

House looked up sharply, sweeping his eyes around the table at the other two doctors before settling back on Blackburn. "Yeah, well I find syphilis induced brain damage a poor foundation for a relationship," he answered bluntly.

"Ugh," Parks said with distaste. "You get off on being a jerk, everybody knows that, so you have no basis to even know what a good foundation for a relationship would be."

"That's because everybody lies," House snapped back, eyes flashing angrily.

Parks shook her head and turned back to Simmons to resume their conversation. Blackburn sighed and shook his head. That did exactly the opposite of what he had hoped would happen. Since Simmons seemed to have had a pleasant memory of the event, he'd hoped to draw House out just a bit. Now he was behind an even higher wall. Cyrus had heard the rumors that House was on the verge of losing tenure, this event being a mandatory condition to keeping his job. If House and Parks continued firing shots at each other all weekend, House would be fired and diagnostics closed. Well, Cyrus didn't plan on spending a miserable weekend watching these two tear each other down. He'd have to try to convince Simmons to help him defuse the war or none of them would get any benefit out of this.

The first course dishes were removed and the entrée served but what little appetite House had had was now gone. He was simmering just below boil at being forced into this, tricked by Wilson and Cuddy, and denied even his own team to share the misery with. Now he had to spend a weekend with bitchy Parks. He pushed the plate aside and sat back in his chair, pulling out his vicodin bottle and downing another pill. One of the wait staff noticed his untouched plate and came around, offering a couple of different choices.

"Are you planning to starve yourself this weekend?" Wilson's voice asked from just behind him, having come around to check on him.

"Go back to your assigned seat before the dragon lady gives you detention," House snapped, shooting Wilson a murderous glance.

"Just eat the dinner, you like what they're serving. Stop being such a child," Wilson said with a sigh, causing House to stiffen in anger. Cyrus was aghast at how Wilson was treating House; public humiliation was rarely an effective means to correct behavior.

"Dr. Wilson, you should return to your table," Cyrus said, meeting Wilson's surprised look with a fixed glare. "Now, if you please," he added when Wilson hesitated. With a huff of indignation and a final glare at House, Wilson turned on heel and went back to his seat.

"I hadn't expected to see such inappropriate behavior from Dr Wilson," Cyrus said with deliberate casualness.

"From Dr Wilson?" Parks said, clearly holding House in the wrong.

"Yes, from Dr Wilson. If he was truly concerned for your welfare, Dr House, he would not have belittled you publicly. I find such behavior offensive and crude."

House regarded Cyrus curiously, finding it odd that anyone would side with him against Wilson. He glanced up at the other two and not surprisingly, Parks was unmoved. Simmons, however, looked thoughtful about the whole situation.

"Did the ride exacerbate your pain?" Cyrus asked a couple of minutes later.

House looked up at him, analyzing his motive in asking before finally nodding. "Long rides always do."

"Do you need Compazine in addition to your Vicodin?"

House stilled completely, unable to voice an answer. After a minute he looked down at his hands and nodded. He didn't think anyone would have noticed. Wilson wouldn't have. Apparently, Cyrus had as a hand slid across a bubble package that House recognized as Compazine. He left it sitting there untouched for a couple of minutes, waiting for the lecture that should follow. Nothing happened. Cautiously, House peeked up at Cyrus who was simply eating dinner as were Parks and Simmons. Another minute passed before House picked up the pack, took one of the pills and put the rest into his pocket.

As the entrée course dishes were picked up, the wait staff again asked if they could bring him something else to eat. The meds had kicked in and he was a little hungry, so he asked if they could slice some of the steak and make a sandwich of it for him. They readily agreed and quickly brought it back to him along with a small bowl of applesauce as they served the dessert course.

Cyrus watched him through dessert, pleased to see him eat most of the sandwich and the applesauce. It completely floored him that Wilson, of all people, had not given him an anti-nausea med, choosing instead to berate him as stubborn. Cyrus had no doubt that House was stubborn, but he'd seen his grimace at the food. If Wilson had bothered to look, he would have seen it too.

After dessert had been cleared away, the master of ceremonies took the stage again to lay out the plan for the rest of the weekend but House paid no attention to her. He stared at his hands, resting crossed on the table, and pondered the mystery of Dr. Cyrus Blackburn, moving only when everyone began to stand up.

"Enjoy your evening, Dr House," Cyrus said with a friendly nod. "See you at breakfast," he added and headed away with Simmons. Parks was already gone, not that House cared. He got to his feet and left the dining hall, limping down to sit on a bench by the lake to think and avoid any lectures or ranting from Wilson. If he was lucky, maybe he could stay out here until Wilson fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as they left the dining hall, Blackburn held out a hand to stay Simmons. "Do you have a moment? I'd like your input on the dinner tonight."

"Sure. You know, I feel bad. I've treated House in the ER before, seen that leg, and it didn't even occur to me that the ride here might ramp up his pain level," Simmons commented following him to a small sitting area in the common room.

"I think that House has tried very hard to not let people see him affected and in some ways that's backfired and he's paying the price for it now," Cyrus said as the both settled into chairs in front of the fireplace.

"Dr. Simmons…"

"Call me Joe," Simmons interjected.

"Then please, call me Cyrus. It's been made common knowledge that House's attendance and participation here this weekend is mandatory for him remaining on staff. I, for one, am appalled that this information has been made public. My first question for you is, do you intend to give him a fair chance to participate?" Joe looked surprised at the question. "Given Dr. Parks hostile attitude toward him, I believe it's a fair question," Cyrus explained.

Joe sighed and nodded. "I know. She's made no secret that she hates House and would be glad to see the door hit him in the ass on the way out. But, yes, I'll give him a fair chance to participate."

"Good. I was pretty sure you would when you seemed amused at that love letter story he told."

"That was so funny. Wilson read it out loud in the middle of the floor," Simmons chuckled, just thinking about it.

"Over the next three days of the event, I'd like for you to work with me to try to draw him out of that armor he wears. I think if we both show that we're willing to have him as part of our group, it will counteract any hostility on Dr. Parks part. Maybe we'll even be able to reduce it if she feels like the odd man out. So to speak," Cyrus added with a smile.

"Sure, I can do that. I can't say I particularly like House but he's a brilliant doctor. The hospital would be losing a lot if they get rid of him. His fellows are good and getting better all the time but… they're not House. I do have to say that I've learned more about him at dinner tonight than all the years I've worked at the hospital with him. Count me in," Joe agreed with a smile.

"Thank you for your help. Care for a game of cards?"

"With no TV in the cabins? You bet," Joe agreed enthusiastically.

An hour later, House returned to the large common room in the hall, too cold to stay outside any longer but still wanting to avoid Wilson. There were a couple of small groups of people gathered there but he set his eyes on the floor and made directly for the coffee pot. Once he'd made his coffee he turned around looking for a corner to drink it in and caught Blackburn's eye. Blackburn gestured for House to join him and Simmons. House was going to just ignore him but Simmons looked up at that moment and gestured for him to join them as well. That was new and interesting. House nodded and made his way over to the table, sinking down into a chair with a sigh of relief as he fished out another Vicodin and took it.

Cyrus was shuffling the cards and began to deal, including House automatically.

"What are we playing?" House asked as he took a sip of coffee.

"Hearts," Cyrus answered.

"Sissies," House said with a smirk as he picked up his hand and began to plan strategy. They played two games, Cyrus won the first and House won the second. Cyrus was pleased to see House loosen up while playing the game, able to give and take teasing easily, actually enjoying the game and, Cyrus dared to think, perhaps even the company.

Simmons sat back after the second game, hand over his mouth to cover a huge yawn. "Okay, that's it for me. I think I slept through that last hand with all the points I got stuck with. Good night, gentlemen. See you both in the morning."

House nodded and Cyrus watched as the armor started to slip back into place. "I better go too before Wilson sends out a search party. Good game," he acknowledged, as he stood up.

"Yes it was. Good night, House."

"See you, Blackburn."

House grew more and more tense as he made his way back to his assigned cabin with Wilson. Sure enough Wilson was sitting up on the bed working on files and met House's arrival with disapproval.

"Finished pouting now?"

"Love you too," House snarled back and headed into the bathroom to soak in the tub.

"Are you going to turn every meal into a tantrum to get your own way?"

"Yep, at least until the Compazine kicks in."

"Compazine? What Compazine?" Wilson asked, confused.

"The Compazine Blackburn gave me for the nausea that a long car ride in the back seat brought on."

Wilson appeared in the bathroom door as House began to strip down while the tub filled. "Why didn't you tell me you were nauseous? I thought you were just being stubborn."

"Did it ever occur to you that I'm just so talented that I can be stubborn and nauseous at the same time?" House asked sarcastically. "Now are you going to stand there and watch or can I take a bath by myself like a big boy?"

"Ass," Wilson sighed, exasperated, and retreated back into the bedroom.

House soaked in the tub for nearly an hour, adding more hot water twice before finally feeling his muscles loosen up enough to climb out and attempt to sleep in the strange bed. Wilson was half asleep but had left a small lamp on for House to move around the room more easily.

"You okay?" Wilson mumbled from under the comforter.

"Yeah. Go back to sleep," House replied, getting into the bed and was pleased to find that it was much more comfortable than he'd expected. The down comforter warmed him up nicely and he was able to fall asleep fairly easily.

House woke up the next morning to Wilson blow drying his hair in the bathroom.

"Wilson, you're such a girl!" he shouted, putting the pillow over his head.

"So you tell me," Wilson said as he finished up and came out to get dressed. "You better get up soon, breakfast is going to be served in one hour. I'm heading over to get some coffee. See you there."

House grumbled unintelligibly in response and Wilson left the cabin, shaking his head with amused consternation. House snoozed for another twenty minutes before finally forcing himself to sit up and begin the process of getting his leg ready to stand and walk, popping both Vicodin and Compazine. Maybe he'd actually be able to eat something for breakfast.

House arrived just a couple of minutes before the meal was to be served and took his seat, nodding at his table mates. Parks made a point of looking at her watch and shaking her head at his just rolled out of bed appearance.

Simmons reached over and picked up the thermal carafe. "Can I start you off with a coffee, House?"

"Sure," House answered, turning his mug over and sliding it closer to Simmons. He drew the full mug back and took a deep breath over it.

"Nectar of the gods," Cyrus said, topping off his own mug and adding cream, holding the jug up to House to offer him some. House smirked at his comment but shook his head no to the cream.

The Master of Ceremonies was making her way around the room, depositing a shoebox and a handful of papers on each table, stopping at Dr. Cuddy's side.

"We've made some adjustments to the itinerary, Dr. Cuddy. You should have let us know in advance that one of your doctor's had a physical impairment," she chided. "The grounds here are too unstable for the traditional scavenger hunt in the woods for a man with a cane."

"Oh, well. I didn't know for sure he'd come until we wrestled him into the car. You needn't have bothered rearranging the activities. It's likely he'll just hide out in his cabin anyway," Cuddy responded, smiling hello to the table next to her.

"The activities are always planned so that every guest can participate. That is the point of a team building training, after all. Here is the new schedule of events," she said with disapproval of Cuddy's indifference toward a disabled employee and headed back up to the podium at the front of the room.

"Good morning everyone. I hope you all spent a restful night. On your tables you'll find an updated schedule of events. We're trading out the scavenger hunt on Sunday night for a variety skit show. Each team will have to plan out what they will present to the group and have the rest of the weekend to practice. The variety show will take place after dinner on Sunday evening.

"You'll also find a shoe box on your table. At each meal, everyone should draw one slip of paper from the box and honestly answer the question you'll find there. I encourage you to talk about your questions and answers with your team mates. Enjoy your breakfast!"

House's attitude darkened as soon as the itinerary change was announced. He knew that the only reason it had been changed was because of his leg; there was no foul weather forecast this weekend. Simmons glanced up at Blackburn as he noticed the sudden shift in House's demeanor.

"Dr. House? What are you thinking?" Blackburn asked, studying his body language carefully. His left hand was gripping and releasing his cane and his right hand was holding his bad leg; House was staring down at his coffee cup, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

"Fuck this shit and fuck this job," House growled, glaring up at him fiercely before lurching to his feet and leaving the dining hall.

"Good riddance," Parks commented. "Now we can get a team member who'll actually work with us."

"Dr. Parks. Check your hatred with your luggage for the rest of the weekend," Cyrus said, rising to his feet with disgust. "I'm going to go after him."

Parks looked at Simmons for validation and was surprised to find disapproval from him as well. "What's the big deal? You know House wasn't ever going to participate and you don't like him either."

"I don't know that for sure. He participated last night at dinner and he played cards with me and Blackburn afterwards. You're going out of your way to be hostile. You don't have to like him. Just be civil."

"I didn't say anything to him," Parks protested. "He was out of the hall before I said anything."

"It's started the whole day negative. I agree with Blackburn on this. Check it with your luggage."

Cyrus followed House down to a bench by the lake and sat down next to him.

"Go away," House growled.

"And listen to Dr. Parks complain? No, thank you," Cyrus replied, sitting back to look out over the lake. After a few moments of silence, House sighed.

"They changed that itinerary because of me. Because I'm a cripple."

"And that clearly bothers you."

"I don't need anyone's pity!"

"From the look on the emcee's face when she was speaking to Dr. Cuddy, I don't think it was pity she was feeling." Cyrus deliberately didn't go on, to see if he could lure House into finding out what he did see. He could see House waiting for him to go on and the moment he figured out what Cyrus was waiting for.

"Fine, I'll bite. What did the look say she was feeling?"

"Disapproval. Censure. If I am to hazard a guess why, I would say that Dr. Cuddy failed to inform them that you used a cane. These paths look pretty narrow and steep here. I'd say they'd be a challenge for everyone but most especially you."

"Because I'm a cripple," House said bitterly.

"Because you no longer have full strength and use of your leg through no fault of your own, yes," Cyrus agreed, rewording House's anger and self-loathing.

"Come back to breakfast. It could be that the variety show skits turn out to be more challenging to the rest of the teams that the scavenger hunt would be for you. There's certainly going to be a much greater opportunity for some light-hearted mockery, don't you think?"

House snorted and gave him a quick half-smirk. "It might do that," he agreed finally, getting to his feet when Cyrus stood up and following him back to the dining hall. All of the other tables were eating breakfast except theirs. The moment they took their seats, the staff served their breakfast, which had been kept steaming hot until the entire table was present.

"Thank you for waiting for us," Cyrus said, both to their table mates and to the serving staff. "This smells wonderful."

House had to admit that it did smell good. A big stack of fluffy, steaming pancakes and several slices of bacon captivated his attention and he gladly accepted the jug of maple syrup from Simmons, drowning his pancakes and digging in hungrily.

As they finished up breakfast, Cyrus drew the shoebox to him and pulled a slip from the box to start the morning activity.

"What's the oldest thing in your refrigerator?" Cyrus read and chuckled, shaking his head. "Okay, let me think. The oldest thing in my refrigerator is a bottle of plum jelly. I tried at a wine and cheese party, thought it tasted great and bought the biggest jar in the store. That was over a year ago and there's over half a jar left."

Simmons chuckled as he pulled the box in front of him and pulled a slip. "Plum jelly guilt?"

"Something like that," Cyrus answered with a smile.

"What is your earliest childhood memory?" Simmons read off the slip. He tapped his fingers on the table as he took a minute to think about it. "My earliest childhood memory is walking under the house eaves with my brothers during a rainstorm. Splashing through the puddles while the rain fell off the roof onto our heads. I remember none of us could stop laughing."

He handed the box off to Parks who was smiling at Simmons' memory but still standoffish about doing this with House. She pulled out a slip and sighed. "What's the meaning of your name? Ann, means favor or grace. That was kind of a boring one." She hesitated a moment then slid the box across the table to House.

House fished around in the box, mixing the slips around, before picking one. "What's your middle name?"

"Marie"

"Most likely from derived from an Egyptian name meaning beloved." He held the slip up in front of his face and read it aloud. "Over your life, how many cities have you lived in and which was your favorite?" House pursed his lips, tapping one finger to them as lightly bobbing his head as he counted them up in his mind. "Twenty-two. My favorite city was Osaka, Japan. That was the place I decided I wanted to be a doctor."

"I didn't know you'd lived overseas," Simmons commented with interest. "How long did you live in Japan?"

"A year and a half. I was a military brat so we moved around a lot and overseas five times."

House sat and listened to the other three talk over another round of coffee then the group broke up for an hour of free time before the morning activity started.


	3. Chapter 3

House wandered out of the dining hall and heard Wilson fall into step with him. "You know the event organizers changed the schedule, not Cuddy."

"Don't care," House answered shortly.

"Yes, that's why you got up and stormed out before breakfast," Wilson chided.

"I came back, I ate, I did the activity. Leave me alone, Wilson," he snapped. Wilson held his hands up and shook his head, heading back toward their cabin.

House shook his head and decided to check out the walking trails in the woods. If they regularly used them for events, how bad could they really be? Maybe he could figure out some short cuts or cheats to use and they could still do this scavenger hunt instead of the variety show. He'd pay for it for days afterward but that would be preferable to everyone knowing the scavenger hunt was called off because of him.

He set his watch for half an hour, so he could turn back on time for the morning activity, and headed up the trail by the lake. The first ten minutes weren't too bad. The trails were narrow and rocky but there were plenty of places to hold on to. A few minutes later the trail turned steeper but there were ropes placed to help climb up. It looked like it leveled out after eight feet so House gritted his teeth and figured out a way to pull himself up with the rope that didn't tax his leg too much at all. He made one more climb before his watch beeped that it was time to turn back.

Unfortunately, the rope climb turned out to be much harder to navigate going down than it had been going up. He decided to try to find another way down and followed another, smaller trail for a few minutes before he heard someone coming along the trail, grimacing when Dr. Parks came around the bend, wearing hiking shoes and carrying a tall walking stick.

"Dr. House," Parks greeted him, surprised to see him in the woods. "What are you doing up here?"

"Running away from home," House sniped back.

"Right," Parks said, rolling her eyes. "Next activity starts in twenty minutes so you'd better get back."

"Parks," House said, stopping her from moving on. "Do you know any easier trail than those rope climbs?"

"No, as far as I know, all the trails have rope climbs. How did you get up them?" she asked, frowning at him as she took in the dirt on his clothes and hands.

House didn't answer, instead heading back to the rope climb to try to figure out how to get safely over the edge and onto the steep stairs below. Since she was returning anyway, Parks followed behind him. She could easily see that he'd have to go over the edge feet first in order to get his good leg settled safely on a step so he could grab onto the rope.

"Let me go first," she said, stepping up to where he was standing.

"I don't need your help," House snarled, sitting down and then rolling over onto his belly to slide his legs over the edge.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Parks said, a bit concerned now. "If you let me go first I can spot your foot on the step so you can get down easier."

House was now in full stubborn mode now, determined to prove that he could do this even with his crippled leg. He backed himself over the edge and clung to the pole the rope was anchored to. It took him over a minute to find a secure foothold on the stairs and he missed the third to last step and skidded down the final three steps to the bottom.

"Are you all right?" Parks called out, looking down from the top.

"Fine," House ground out, getting slowly and painfully to his feet to get out of the way for her to come down. She found him leaning against a tree trunk, grimacing and leaning heavily on his cane.

"You go first next time," House said, refusing to meet her eyes.

"Are you hurt beyond bruised and scuffed?"

House shook his head no.

"Okay. Let's go then."

Parks led the way to the next rope climb, letting her walking stick slide down to the bottom and lowering herself onto the steps. About halfway down, she stopped and called out for House to come over.

"Slowly, ease yourself over. I'm going to take hold of your foot and put it on the step," Parks warned him, taking careful hold of his heel and setting his foot firmly on the stair. "Okay, there are five stairs. You should be able to see them if you lean back on the rope but I'll spot you if you need it," she said, taking the last couple of stairs herself and watching carefully as he made his way down.

House nodded his thanks to her once he was down and she walked beside him until they were safely on level ground. "I'm heading for a shower. You need one too," she said with a smirk as he was covered in dust.

"Yeah. Tell Blackburn and Simmons I might be late," House answered limping heavily toward his cabin as she agreed.

Parks quickly showered and headed off to meet up with the other two, finding them seated at their table in the dining hall.

"Hey, listen House is probably going to be late. I found him up past the second rope climb on the trails," she said she joined them at the table.

"He was on those trails?" Blackburn asked, alarmed. "What was he doing up there?"

"I don't know. He said he was running away from home when I asked him. He slipped down the last three steps of the second rope climb and then let me go first and guide him down the first set. I told him he needed a shower. He was limping pretty badly. I can't imagine why he'd even try those trails," she said with consternation.

"I have a good idea why," Blackburn said soberly. "I'm glad you were out on the trails and found him."

House was a full fifteen minutes late when he made his way slowly into the dining hall. Cyrus was watching for him and stood quickly to intercept him before Wilson did. "Forget it, he's on our team, Wilson. That photographic memory is ours for the weekend."

House was startled but easily followed Cyrus' lead and smirked at Wilson. "Gotta' go, the team needs me," he told Wilson, heading over to the table and taking his seat at the table with his team mates. Cyrus gave Wilson a warning look and followed House to the table.

"So what's the torture they have scheduled for us this morning?" he asked, taking a look at the table to find a basket of Legos on the table.

"The administrator has put together a figure on the head table. One at a time, each of us gets to go up and spend 10 seconds looking at it and then come back and describe what they saw to the rest of us. We keep going until we've got it right," Simmons answered.

House nodded and hauled himself to his feet. "I'll start it then."

It took several rounds of looks before they got it finished properly but even with the late start they weren't the last team to finish. Once they got confirmation that they were right, they left the dining hall at Cyrus' suggestion, moving into the more comfortable chairs in the common room to discuss their skit for the variety show. There were a variety of drinks and snacks to choose from on the side table which Cyrus picked up a small basketful and brought them back to the group.

"So, how do we decide what kind of skit to do?" Simmons asked, snagging a packet of muffins. "Do we try to show off talent or do we try for a parody?

"I don't know what talents we have to show off," Parks commented. "Well, House could play the piano, they have one here, but what would the rest of us do?"

House said nothing, letting them talk and bounce a few crazy ideas for a few minutes but he was thinking about the skit. Something deliberately meant to be funny would be best, that way if everyone laughed at them it was because they wanted them to laugh. That brought to mind the night he'd gone to the karaoke bar with Chase and Foreman. He knew it had been a set up by Wilson but all three of them had wound up having a great deal of fun.

"We could write new lyrics to a song," House suggested as the conversation lagged between the other three. "Make it a parody and sing it. I'd suggest fifties style or Motown, something with falsetto voices."

The other three thought about it for a moment and nodded. "That's a great idea," Simmons said. "They mentioned a box of props and costumes; if we can put together something matching and then get some of those synchronized movements, it would be really cool."

They talked for a few minutes and had several song suggestions written down, deciding to each take one song and try to write up some funny lyrics that had something to do with the hospital.

"We'll go over first drafts this afternoon and rummage through the props and costumes box," Cyrus said to everyone's agreement. Simmons and Parks wandered off first, which pleased Cyrus as he wanted to make an attempt to talk to House about this morning.

"What made you decide to try the trails?" Cyrus asked, point-blank but in a non-threatening tone.

House looked up and fixed him with a sharp look. "I wanted to see if they were as steep as them made them out to be."

"Are they? I didn't try them, myself. I'm not much into tramping around the woods."

"Yeah, they are," House admitted after a long moment's hesitation.

"Did you pull anything when you slipped on the rope climb?"

"She told you how pathetic I looked," House spat out angrily.

"No, she simply said that you slipped and that she helped you find your footing on the next climb. Never mentioned the word pathetic. Did you pull anything?"

"No," he said after a moment. "A little overstrained but didn't pull anything. Why did you get between me and Wilson this morning? He wasn't trying to poach me from your team."

"Because he was about to deliver a lecture about being late when you had a perfectly good reason to be late. I don't think he was even going to ask you why you were late. I won't stand for that."

House looked at Cyrus with a puzzled expression, trying to figure out why Cyrus' reactions were so different from everyone else's. "I wanted to see if I could find a way to manage the trail; to let everyone do the scavenger hunt instead of the variety show," he said as a test, looking away at the bottle of water in his hands.

Cyrus nodded. "Would you prefer to do the scavenger hunt?"

House shrugged, still refusing to meet his gaze. "There was a time it wouldn't have been any challenge at all."

"We could, as a team, go out on the trail and do part of it."

"And let all of you see how crippled I am? Forget it."

Cyrus could see that House was in full flight or fight mode and decided to back off the topic. "I was thinking it would be funnier if we did a girl group song," he remarked. "Simmons and I doing synchronized movements in falsetto voices would be a gas."

House seized the topic change and smirked at the image Cyrus created. "I like that. Takes all the pressure to sing well away."

"Will you play the piano for the skit or do we need to try to download a karaoke track?"

"I'll check the piano out; if it's in tune, I'll play," House responded, visibly more relaxed away for the topic of his leg. He got up and went over to the piano in the common room and ran a few scales, pleased to find it in tune and went on to play a few improvs. Blackburn smiled and looked at the song he'd chosen and tried to figure out how he could rewrite the lyrics for their team.


	4. Chapter 4

As lunchtime neared it was turning windy and cold. House returned to the cabin to dig out a warmer shirt to wear and his jacket, finding Wilson there already doing the same thing.

"Did you bring a sweater?" Wilson asked as House pulled his duffle bag onto the bed to root through.

"Yeah, I did," he answered, pulling out a deep blue crew neck sweater and putting it on over his shirt then pulling out his jacket.

"Are you getting along alright with you team?" Wilson asked casually, although it was clear he was fishing for gossip for Cuddy.

"Peachy keen," House said sarcastically. "Got your skit worked out yet?"

"No, you?" Wilson asked, trying another angle.

"Yep. Just have to pick the music," House answered with a grin. "Your team better get cracking. Have Cuddy in a French maid's uniform, maybe that will give you some ideas."

"Nice," Wilson sighed, shaking his head and pulling on his own sweater. "You seem to be getting along with Blackburn."

"Isn't that the point of this whole weekend?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"But? You complain if I don't play their game, you complain if I do and get along with them. You're just never happy, Wilson. You need help."

"Yeah, I'm the one that needs help," Wilson answered sarcastically. "Just, keep playing nice for the weekend and this thing with the board should blow over."

House didn't bother to respond, just picked up his iPod and headed back out the door. Wilson was certainly in quite a mood this weekend. House wished he wasn't sharing a cabin with him. It would have been much easier to take this weekend seminar if he'd had a private room to get away from everybody. He decided to go back to the common room in the main building and hole up by the fireplace since the wind was so cold. Upon arrival he sighed and headed for the opposite corner, as Cuddy was sitting there with several other doctors. Holding court, he thought sourly as he moved another chair slightly in an attempt to block him from view.

He'd only been sitting for a couple of minutes when he caught the scent of Cuddy's perfume. Rolling his head to the side, he squinted up at her. "Yes, Evil Mistress?"

"Nice to see you out and about. Look, I know we tricked you into coming here, but it's for your own good. Grit your teeth and play nice; I can take that to the board and you keep your job," Cuddy said patronizingly.

"For my own good. Right. I don't know why you and Wilson keep telling me to play nice. I'm not the one who lied about what this weekend was going to be. I'm not the one who lied about the location. I'm not the one that forcibly put my team on vacation just before going to a team building seminar. I'm not the one that's been making pithy cheap shots the whole time," House snapped back irritably.

"You're the king of cheap shots," Cuddy retorted. "Don't give me all this poor little me crap and act like you're hurt."

House surged up out of the chair and towered over her angrily for a moment before blowing out his breath and pushing past her, heading for the door.

"Lunch is in twenty minutes, where are you going?" Cuddy demanded.

"I'm not hungry," House growled and headed straight for the lakeshore.

As the group assembled in the dining hall, Cyrus was watching for House to no avail. Parks joined Blackburn and Simmons at the table. "If you're looking for House, I wouldn't bother. I heard that he and Dr. Cuddy traded words half an hour ago. He took off and hasn't been seen since," she said.

"Damn it," Blackburn sighed. "He's here, he's participating; why can't they just leave him alone? I'm going to look for him."

"Wait a minute. What do you mean, why can't they leave him alone? He's the one who causes most of the trouble around the hospital, I can't imagine it to be any different here," Parks said, genuinely confused by Cyrus' protectiveness for House.

"I can't speak for any events in the past, but I can tell you what I've seen this weekend," Cyrus answered. "Dr. Cuddy and Dr. Wilson are gossiping about him. They are going out of their way to treat him with condescension and patronization. Publicly humiliating him rather than treating the very real symptom of nausea. They seem to be eager to push him into the type or reaction that everyone is expecting of him."

Parks frowned as she thought about this. "Well, maybe he'll be in the cabin now that Wilson is here for lunch," she said, nodding over to the door that Wilson had just entered.

"I'll go check," Cyrus said, heading out of the hall and knocking on the cabin door but getting no response. He tried the knob, but the door was locked. Still, he had a troubling feeling that House was not in the cabin at all. He quickly checked the lot for Wilson's car; it was still there and empty. He returned to their table, hoping to find House there but not surprised to find that he was not.

"He's not in the cabin. I've noticed he likes to sit by the lake; I'm going to walk down and see if I can find him," Cyrus said, concerned now about what Cuddy might have said to House.

"I'll come with you," Simmons said, getting up and slipping his jacket on. Parks hesitated, unsure whether there was a real cause for concern or if House was just hiding somewhere as was his wont, but she too stood and put on her coat. Now that she was thinking about it, why did House hide out in the hospital all the time? And how did someone with a personality as big as House's hide out so easily anyway?

Cyrus nodded his gratitude to both of them for their aid and he spoke to the wait staff, informing them what they were doing and to please keep their lunch and some warm drinks waiting for them when they returned.

Cuddy and Wilson both watched with puzzled expressions when the group left, then shrugged and returned to their group's activity. They both expected House would bail out of the activities anytime now. Cuddy had chosen his tablemates deliberately. One hostile, one on the fence and one objective when it came to dealing with House. Their report would go right to the board. She hoped that Blackburn, as a psychiatrist, had some recommendations she could put up as an ultimatum against losing his tenure and get him back into some treatment.

Parks drew her jacket tighter around her as they followed the path to the lake. "That wind is really getting biting. He wouldn't stay out here in this cold, would he?"

"It depends on what Cuddy said to him," Cyrus answered. "If he felt he couldn't go back to the cabin, yes, he might stay out here despite the cold."

Cyrus led the way with Simmons and Parks trailing behind him. He'd hoped to find House on the picnic tables or benches along the shore line but didn't really expect it to be that easy to find him. They walked toward the trails and started up, finding House sitting at the top of the first rope climb. He looked up at them briefly, though he wouldn't meet their eyes, then looked back at the ground he was churning up with his cane.

"Hey, hey, the gang's all here," House muttered. "I'm pretty sure you're all missing lunch. Better get back."

"Not without you," Cyrus answered calmly.

"I'm not doing this. Tell the Dungeon Mistress to get with the board and do her worst. I don't care anymore. I'm through playing her game," House growled.

"Dr. Cuddy didn't send us, but I'll be more than happy to tell her to go to hell for you," Cyrus answered. House looked up, brow furrowed in puzzled curiosity.

"Why are you all here then?" House asked.

"It's freezing cold; you weren't in the hall or in your cabin," Cyrus explained.

"And you what? Decided this afternoon's team activity was go find your missing table mate? Careful, that's Wilson's job. He's protective over his territory."

"Wilson is eating lunch in the hall with Cuddy," Parks said, watching as his eyes darkened in anger then his face became completely blanked.

"Good for him. That's where you three should be so run along home," House said, looking back at the ground and going back to churning up the ground with his cane.

"You're right. Let's go," Cyrus said, holding out his hand in front of House. Neither of the other two moved until House looked up at them. "We're not leaving without you. It's too cold to be outside for a long time and we still need to pick our song for our skit."

"Yeah, can't have our piano player get frostbite before the big show," Simmons added and Parks agreed.

"Come on. I ordered up some hot drinks for us," Cyrus coaxed, still holding out his hand. House stared at the three of them, unsure why they wouldn't just walk away like everyone else would. All of a sudden a gust of wind shook the trees around them and seconds later a shower of huge icy cold raindrops. House grimaced and took Cyrus' hand to get to his feet but they had only taken a couple of steps when the heavens opened and it began to pour.

"This is going to make it harder to get down the rope climb. Let me go first," Cyrus said. He climbed carefully down the stairs and called for Parks to come next, spotting her footholds. "You come down next, House. I'll guide your feet and make sure you don't fall. Simmons, make sure he doesn't slip over the edge too fast."

Simmons took hold of House as he carefully lowered himself down over the edge. The ground was already muddy and the rocks were slippery and slick. Cyrus came up the first couple of steps and guided House's feet onto the steps, staying close behind him to make sure he didn't fall. Simmons came last, also with aid from Cyrus, and they made their way through the torrent back to the dining hall. All four of them were completely soaked as they made their way directly to the fireplace.

The staff came out with extra towels and blankets from the linen storage closets, helping them off with their jackets and bringing out cups of hot tea and coffee for them. Another staff member came around and stoked up the fire to a hot blaze.

"Sorry," House mumbled quietly after the initial flurry of staff activity.

"Why? Did you make it rain?" Cyrus asked with a wry smile.

"You wouldn't have been out there if I hadn't been," House responded.

"You wouldn't have been out there if it hadn't been for Dr. Cuddy," Cyrus responded.

"House! What the hell?" Cuddy's voice rang out as she came out of the room with Wilson trailing behind her. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

"Oh, just leave him alone!" Parks snapped suddenly.

"Dr. Cuddy, Dr. Wilson, I have to insist that you limit your interactions with Dr. House this weekend to a minimum," Cyrus said firmly, stepping in between them and House. "Every interaction I've witnessed thus far has been detrimental to him and counter to the spirit of this weekend and seminar."

"Are you serious?" Wilson asked, half smiling and half angry.

"Deadly serious, Dr. Wilson. In fact, I would highly recommend that House change accommodations for the weekend. I'll ask my roommate if they would be willing to room with you and let you know later this afternoon," Cyrus informed him, then turned his back on the pair.

"Please bring our lunch here, I think we need to stay around the fire for warmth," Cyrus said to the staff.

Cuddy and Wilson gaped at each other for a moment, then Cuddy's face hardened. "Fine. I won't bother him for the rest of the weekend." She turned on heel and left. Wilson stood there a moment longer, both angry and worried but eventually the anger and feeling of being insulted won out and he followed in Cuddy's wake.

House stared into the fireplace morosely. "Wilson's going to be in one hell of a snit now. I'd better stay where I am and weather the storm."

"The decision is yours but I think you should at least consider switching rooms," Cyrus said calmly resuming his seat.

"They weren't even concerned," Parks said, confused at the way Cuddy had come at House. "She didn't even ask what happened or if anyone was hurt."

"If I'm involved, it's my fault, no matter what happened or why," House said, so flatly and routinely that Cyrus was alarmed. Clearly this was something he'd heard far too often in his life.

"It's Dr. Cuddy that is at fault this time," Cyrus said as the staff came back with hot plates of food and more hot drinks.

"Definitely. She and Wilson cast themselves as your friends but they sure aren't acting like it," Simmons agreed with Parks nodding along as well.

House didn't know what to do with that or how to respond so he said nothing, digging out the compazine to take and sipping his coffee as the others settled into eating their lunch.

The other three sat and sipped coffee once they were done eating until House was able to finish most of his food. "Better pull a question from the box," House said as the staff picked up the plates. "Supposed to do that before we eat, after all."

"I'll grab our box," Simmons said, heading into the other room, returning in just a moment with the box and a dinner napkin for each of them. "The afternoon activity," he explained as he handed the napkins out. "We're supposed to each come up with a possible use for the napkin, different from each other's."

House snorted and immediately folded the napkin into an origami swan. The others chuckled and each tried to come up with something different growing more and more outrageous as they went along. Finally, they each pulled a question from the box. Parks went first.

"What do you miss most about being a kid?" she read from the slip of paper. "I miss running barefoot in the grass. I only wore shoes under duress all summer long and as soon as I got home from school, they were off. Now I think about all the things that could go wrong walking barefoot, but in my memory all I can feel is the soft, warm cushion of grass and the good memories of chasing butterflies and fireflies and making mud pies."

Simmons pulled a slip next. "If you could paint a picture of any scenery you'd seen before, what would it be? Hmm. I think that IF I could paint, I would have to paint the sun rising on top of Cadillac Mountain in Maine. I've seen it a few times and it's always pretty thrilling. Lots of reds, oranges, purples. I've got some pictures of it but I think a painting would be even better."

Cyrus reached over and pulled the box to the table between him and House, pulling a slip as he did so. "If you could be any fictional character who would it be and why?" he read, grinning as he finished. "I would be Albus Dumbledore. I want to live long enough to be aged and wise, be known as a great sorcerer that even evil sorcerers fear and still love the simple things in life, like lemon drops and warm socks. And that beard and rich robes."

"Not to mention being exempt from some of rules," House commented as they all chuckled at Cyrus' choice. House pulled his slip next and "What chore do you absolutely hate doing? There are so many to choose from," he smirked sitting back and twirling his cane in his fingers. "Clinic duty. Paperwork is a close second but between the two, clinic duty is the worst."

"It's definitely not interesting or exciting but why do you hate it so much?" Parks asked. The whole hospital had heard the lengths that House went to in order to avoid the clinic and here was a chance to possibly get an answer.

"Because the patients are morons. Most of them are wasting hospital resources and my time for something a monkey could diagnose. We're in a teaching hospital; the student doctors should be working the clinic, they're the ones that need to learn how to diagnose on the easy stuff. But for me to be there diagnosing sinusitis is just stupid," House responded.

"Why is it stupid? You've gotten a couple of cases through the clinic haven't you?" Simmons asked.

"Yes, but I would probably have gotten those cases anyway," House acknowledged. "It's stupid because you don't harness up a racing thoroughbred to pull a plow if you have a whole herd of draft horses standing idle. Cuddy thinks it will make me a better doctor. I treat cases other doctors can't figure out and have a 97% success rate. I don't see how treating runny noses and sprained ankles is going to improve on that."

Simmons had to agree with him. "Well, it's true, I get annoyed when patients occupy the ER resources for something that should have gone through the clinic or their regular doctor. I can kind of see how it irritates you. But hell, you could probably diagnose the entire clinic in about 10 minutes flat."

"Yes, I can, but Cuddy won't let me. She makes me see them one at a time," House answered rolling his eyes.

"So, let's pick a song and work on our skit," Cyrus suggested as the conversation lapsed. They traded their songs, bantered and argued and tried a few lines before finally choosing one to learn. They finally broke up and headed back to their cabins to shower and relax a bit before the evening session.


	5. Chapter 5

House made his way back to the cabin with some trepidation. Sure enough, Wilson was there, sitting on his bed with his arms crossed waiting for him.

"What the hell was that all about?" Wilson demanded. "What have you been filling Blackburn's mind with that he's accusing us of being detrimental to you?"

"I haven't said a word to him, he came up with that all by himself," House retorted, pulling up his duffle bag and pulling out another set of clothes.

"Packing up to change rooms?" Wilson snapped.

"Putting on dry clothes," House answered. "I got soaked through or didn't you notice?" he asked bitterly.

"Of course I noticed! All four of you were soaked. What the hell were you doing outside in the rain?"

"I need to get away to think after Cuddy took me to task and demanded I grit my teeth and bear with the seminar and stop acting like I'm hurt because you both tricked and lied to me," House said, trying for an honest answer to see how Wilson would respond.

"Oh please, I don't know why you should feel hurt. You've tricked us and lied to us before. You should feel honored; we learned from the master," Wilson scoffed.

"You said it was wrong when I did it!" House snapped. "Now that you're doing it, it's acceptable behavior?"

"What's the matter, is a taste of your own medicine too bitter to swallow?" Wilson retorted. "Maybe you should have thought of that before taking that donor to task. You brought this all down on yourself, House. We did what we had to in order to get you here and stall the board. We're just trying to help you, if you'd just go with the program."

"I am going with the damn program!" House snarled angrily. "I've been participating in every activity and not just lip service either. What the hell else do you want from me?"

"I'm just waiting to see how you're going to blow this all apart," Wilson answered. "We both know you're going to. I keep thinking that if I remind you about losing your job often enough, maybe you won't do it. It's a slim chance, I know, but I'm a sucker for lost causes," Wilson added with a shrug and a half smile. That smile slipped when House started shoving his clothes back into the duffle bag. "What are doing? I thought you were going to change clothes?"

"This lost cause is going to get another roommate," House growled, throwing his duffle bag over his shoulder and grabbing his backpack.

"House. House, come on, I was joking. It's just an expression. Look you won't be able to carry your bags all the way to hall," Wilson said, trying to coax him out of leaving.

"Go to hell, Wilson," House said, slamming the door as he left. It took all of his strength and effort to carry the duffle bag up to the hall. He let it drop to the floor just inside and approached a staff member. "I want to change cabins. Dr. Blackburn mentioned his roommate might switch with me. Can you find out for me?"

"Of course, Dr. House. Have a seat and I'll call their cabin."

House took a seat next to the fireplace and waited. He'd only been there a few minutes when Cyrus came into the hall with his roommate.

"Dr. House," Cyrus greeted him as they approached. "This is Dr. Jameson."

"House," Jameson said amiably. "Cyrus explained a bit about what's going on. I'm willing to change cabins with you. But I have to be prepared. Does Wilson really blow dry his hair?" he asked with a grin.

House snorted with amusement and relief. "Every morning first thing. Wear ear plugs," he advised. Jameson nodded and followed the staff member to his new cabin while Cyrus picked up House's duffle bag and led the way back to his.

"You were right," House said as he sat down on the bed and dug around for a set of dry, clean clothes. "He just doesn't get it. He's doing the same things he's berated me for in the past and thinks it's okay because he's doing it to me."

"I'm sorry to be right," Cyrus said. "I know you two have been friends for a long time."

"Yeah. I'm going to take a shower and get changed," House said, taking his clothes and shaving kit into the bathroom. He took a long hot shower, trying to ease the stiffness in his leg and finally emerged dressed in sweat pants and a tee with his robe.

"Feeling warmer now?" Cyrus asked.

"Much. How much time before dinner?"

"An hour."

"Good. I'm going to try to catch a nap," House responded, getting into bed and wrapping up in the comforter with his back to Cyrus.

Cyrus turned down the room lights and retreated to a chair beside his own bed to read a book he'd brought along on the weekend and give House some privacy. He was pleased that House had actually taken the initiative to change cabins and wasn't willing to let Wilson continue to walk all over him. Although he was certain they hadn't heard the last of Wilson and Cuddy this weekend. Much to his surprise, House was awake again in only half an hour. Cyrus was about to ask when he saw him working at his bad leg and he realized he'd probably stiffened up if not in spasms. He kept his eyes firmly on his book although he was paying close attention. It took a full ten minutes of massage on House's part but he was up and fishing out jeans and a sweater for dinner. Cyrus waited until he was fully dressed before putting his book down.

"Do you want to go over early or be fashionably late?" Cyrus asked.

"Let's go over early. I want to see how much of an issue Wilson and Cuddy are going to cause," House answered, pulling out his meds, including the compazine and dry swallowing them. Cyrus winced, imagining the gritty, bitter taste and wondering how House could stand it, but he said nothing, pulling on his jacket and walking beside House up to the dining hall.

True to House's prediction, Wilson and Cuddy were standing together talking in hushed tones but their expressions and gestures broadcast their anger. Cuddy looked over at House and shot him a glare then abruptly turned her back and strode away. Wilson walked over to the two of them and planted himself in front of Cyrus.

"I'd like to talk to my friend alone," he told him angrily.

"Perhaps you should consider asking your friend," Cyrus responded firmly, not stepping back or away.

"House, stop getting Blackburn to do your dirty work and talk to me," Wilson snapped, turning his attention to House.

"I said all I had to say before I left the cabin," House answered.

"I can't believe you're throwing this 'I'm running away from home' temper tantrum!"

"I'm not the one throwing a temper tantrum," House retorted, turning away from Wilson and heading into the dining hall. Wilson grabbed House by the shoulder to stop him. House spun and knocked Wilson's arm away. "Don't touch me, Wilson. Don't talk to me. Just leave me alone!"

Wilson started forward again and found his way blocked by Cyrus. "Walk away, Dr. Wilson. You're just continuing to make trouble."

"I'm making trouble? Oh that's rich, you're the one filling his head with ideas," Wilson laughed, his voice dripping with scorn. "Switching roommates, that was a good one, now you've got him even closer under your thumb. You don't have any clue what you're up against, Blackburn. He bites the hand that feeds him all the time and don't come running to me to fix it when it happens!"

Many of the seminar participants heard Wilson's rant and some of them were shocked at the level of animosity and vitriol. Simmons and Parks had arrived in time to hear the tirade but left Cyrus to handle Wilson, joining House at the dining table. Wilson stormed away from Cyrus and plopped down at his table with Cuddy, engaging her in a furious whispered conversation. Cyrus shook his head and joined the others. House was staring down at the table, silent and immobile. The only sign of the emotional turmoil he was feeling was the white knuckled grip he had on the table edge and his cane.

The staff brought coffee over to the table and Cyrus poured a cup for everyone. "Well, as you probably heard, House and Jameson traded cabin mates this afternoon. Dr. Wilson seems to be inordinately upset by this," Cyrus informed them.

"I don't see what's the big deal," Simmons said as he fixed his coffee. "Wilson's acting like House is cheating on him."

House frowned and looked up at Simmons. "He kind of is acting like that," he agreed. "I wasn't going to do it but I'm sick of him going after me every chance he gets this weekend."

"I'm sick of him going after you this weekend and I'm not even in the line of fire," Simmons said, shaking his head in disgust over Wilson's behavior. "I never realized Wilson was such a nagging fishwife."

"He can turn on the charm when he needs to. Wilson is usually a people pleaser. It's really odd that he's acting this way in the face of disapproval from his colleagues," House mused aloud. "I wonder what's happened to make him act so much out of character."

"Whatever it is, he's clearly not ready to look at it himself, if he's using it as a basis to lash out at you," Cyrus commented. "Maybe changing cabin mates will help bring some clarity to him."

House nodded but clearly he was conducting his own differential on Wilson's behavior. Cyrus pulled the box over and pulled a slip to begin the evening's activity and take the focus off the growing rift between House and Wilson.

"Okay, let's see. Oh, good lord," Cyrus said, laughing as he read the question to himself. "Okay. How much deeper would the ocean be if sponges didn't grow in it? Everyone at the table laughed.

"There are so many variables to take into account," Cyrus remarked. "What size sponges are we talking about? What's the density ratio sponges to water? Just one ocean or all of the oceans in the world?"

"You're stalling," House joked with a grin. "Make your best guess."

"Okay, okay. I think that the oceans would be three full feet deeper if there were no sponges in them," Cyrus answered with a smile.

"And here we are all worried about global warming," House smirked, "when we should be concerned with the extinction of sea sponges."

House pulled a slip out of the box and flipped it up to read it. "How far east do you have to go before you are heading west? That's an easy one, 180 degrees of longitude."

"Wouldn't the Prime Meridian and International Date line be the markers for east and west?" Simmons asked.

"Nope, not on an individual level," House responded. "From a person's perspective, you have to travel 180 degrees longitudinally to now be headed west."

Parks pulled the next slip from the box. "How fast do hotcakes sell?" She burst into laughter. "What kind of weird questions are these?" she asked. Laughter from the other tables in the room told them that everyone had a box full of these questions tonight. "Okay, well it depends on how good they smell, whether they really are hot and if there's an adequate supply of maple syrup and butter on hand," she decided as the three men made humming noises of agreement.

Simmons pulled his question and closed his eyes dramatically while he unfolded it, peeking at the slip once it was opened and rolling his eyes. "If there is an exception to every rule, is there an exception to that rule?"

"Of course there is," House chortled. "Just like the rule that everybody lies but truth begins in lies."

"Wait, what?" Simmons asked with a puzzled smile. "How do you figure that?"

"The more lies that a person tells about something, the more you can tell they're lying. You eliminate the lies and what remains is the truth."

"However improbable that may be. Thank you, Sherlock Holmes," Simmons said with a mock bow.

"My pleasure," House answered with a smirk.

The staff served dinner as soon as the tables had finished their questions and Cyrus was greatly relieved that the questions had been fun. It broke all the pent up tension and anger over Wilson's behavior and made for some light conversation over dinner. As dessert was served, the administrator called for their attention.

"Good evening everyone. I apologize for the cold rain, I ordered fair skies for the weekend," she said with a smile. "Tonight we have a short activity and then you are all free to continue working on your skits for the variety show. Remember to make use of the box of props and costumes. We've put together some prizes for the top three skits. Now, tonight's activity is to make a list of ten things that you do well and share them with your team mates. Have a good evening!"

The four table mates started on their lists right away. As they were finishing up, Cyrus noticed that House had withdrawn and become tense again. He looked up at him and found him just fraying the corner of the piece of paper. Cyrus frowned, wondering what it was about this activity that would have caused such a shift. As soon as the other two were done and looked up, Cyrus leaned forward in his seat. "House? Are you finished with your list?"

"This is stupid," House spat, crumpling the piece of paper and leaning back in his chair to fidget with his cane.

"May we see your list?" Cyrus asked carefully.

"Knock yourselves out. I'm going to go warm up the piano," House growled, getting up and heading into the other room.

"What happened? I didn't think this would be too hard," Parks asked as Cyrus straightened out the paper.

"Apparently, Dr. House doesn't think as much of himself as he would have the rest of the hospital believe," Cyrus said quietly. "There are only two items on this list; medicine and playing the piano."

Simmons looked at his list. He had gotten ten items, only struggling over the last couple of items. Parks put her paper down next to his, also complete. None of them spoke for a moment then they heard piano music start in the other room.

"Let's finish his list for him," Simmons suggested and the others quickly agreed. When the had it filled out, they picked up their lists and headed out to join House around the piano.

House looked up as they all pulled chairs closer and stopped playing when he saw their expressions. "Uh oh. This has the look of an intervention," he tried to joke, but it fell flat and he stared down at the piano keys.

"We'd like to read our lists with you present, if you're willing," Cyrus said. House grimaced but nodded and turned around on the piano bench to face them.

"Okay. My ten things I do well: My job, I play a mean game of rugby, I have good insight, solving crossword puzzles, I have a green thumb for houseplants, I read voraciously, I volunteer as a Big Brother, I do paintings in acrylic, I help my elderly neighbor, and I'm a captain on a debate team," Cyrus recounted, nodding to Simmons to go next.

"I'm good at my job, really good at racquetball, a good team leader, coach at a youth basketball league, I'm a den father for boy scouts, a good husband, a good father, I build model cars, I'm a pretty good handyman, and an amateur civil war historian," Simmons read off.

Parks cleared her throat and went next. "I'm good at my job, I place in the top ten in bike races, I'm a good mother, I play 12 string guitar, I sew dolls and doll cloths, I love baking, especially cakes and cupcakes, I teach first-aid classes with the local girl scouts unit, I make baked clay jewelry, write poetry, and despite the fact that I don't cook very well, I make a mean ravioli," she finished with a smile.

House nodded and made to turn back around to face the piano. "Why don't you read your list to us?" Cyrus suggested.

"Okay. Medicine and piano. Can we get to the song now?" House supplied quickly.

"Better check your list again," Cyrus said calmly, holding the list out to him. "We added a few things to it."

House frowned and slowly took the list from Cyrus, scanning over it and glancing up at them all startled.

"Read it out loud," Cyrus prompted him, knowing that hearing these traits in his own voice would help make them more real to House.

House licked his lips and looked at the list again. "Medicine, piano, loyal friend, protective of employees, fierce patient advocate, interesting speaker, good teacher/mentor, strong in adversity, good with kids, hell of a poker player." He shook his head and looked up at them confused. "Okay, I am a good poker player but where did you pull the rest of this from?"

"You've shown nothing but loyalty to Wilson and Cuddy, even with the way they treat you, you've never retaliated," Simmons explained. "You push your fellows hard but when someone else messes with them, you step up and protect them, take any blame onto yourself as the department head. You shake the very foundations of the hospital to get a test or treatment you think your patient's need. I attended the diagnostics lecture you gave to the med students at Cuddy's insistence. You made the whole lesson extremely compelling for everyone listening."

"Your fellows expand their knowledge of medicine and ability to diagnose almost exponentially. Your teaching style is unorthodox but it definitely works," Parks added. "You've been really good with kids that were your patients."

"And this strength in adversity? What's that supposed to mean?" House asked.

"You've been through some rough times in the last few years," Cyrus said. "The infarction, being shot," he listed, leaving off the time spent in Mayfield, in case Simmons and Parks didn't know the truth of House's leave. "A lot of people would have gone on disability and given up. You didn't; you fought a hell of a battle to walk again and come back to full time work. So, yes, strength in adversity."

House looked down at the paper, rolling it up into a tight tube before putting it into his jacket pocket. "It's been a hard couple of years," he acknowledged. "More than you know."

"We won't ask but we will listen," Cyrus assured him.

House swallowed hard and bit his lips as he tried to decide whether to risk saying anything. The other three sat silent and waiting until he made his decision.

"That leave I took this last year. It wasn't a sabbatical," he said so quietly they had to lean forward to hear him. "You all know I take vicodin. I had built up such a tolerance I was taking a lot of it. Some personal issues came up and I… I took it to dull that pain too. I started having hallucinations. So I went into a detox rehab program away from the hospital. And I stayed for weeks afterward to try to deal with those personal issues. It was recommended that I find someplace else to work and not come back to the same place and the same people but nothing else occupied me like this job has so… I came back. The doctor recommended I not live alone for the first few months and Wilson let me live with him, but when he hooked up with his ex-wife again he told me I had to leave. I stayed clean for a while but I… I just couldn't stand the pain," he said, hunching his shoulders in anticipation of judgment and condemnation from them.

"I heard some rumors but clearly not the whole truth," Simmons admitted, shocked to hear it right from House.

"Cuddy and Wilson agreed to hush it up. Only the board knew the truth," House answered.

"This followed pretty hard on after the bus accident," Simmons said. "Did that play any part in it? You had a skull fracture, concussion and, if the rumors are true, suffered a cardiac arrest, underwent a deep brain stimulation and then had seizures from it."

"Yeah, I did," House confirmed. "It wasn't really part of it but it was a catalyst for my spiral downhill. Wilson wasn't talking to me for a couple of months afterward, my father died, not that that was a great loss," he added bitterly.

"I'm sorry that sparked those issues for you," Cyrus said sincerely. "But that only reinforces what I said; you have strength in adversity."

House looked up at them and squared his shoulders. "I don't want any pity. I'd prefer the details not get around either. So who's got some lyrics to work on?" he asked, clearly wishing to put an end to the sharing session.

They worked on the lyrics for a bit then rummaged through the props and costumes to claim some pieces for the skit. House left early, saying he was tired, and headed back to the cabin. He knew they would want to talk to each other about what he shared with them and he absolutely didn't want to hear it. He filled up the bathtub with steaming hot water, as hot as he could stand and got in to soak.


	6. Chapter 6

**My apologies for the long delay in updating. I have been quite ill for the past ten days. I hope you enjoy this installment.**

* * *

After House left, Simmons got up and brought over a coffee pot, filling all three of their cups. "I never thought those rumors were true; I thought it was just people trying to say something spiteful," he said as he sat down again. "He must have been taking quite a lot to have sparked hallucinations."

"Wait, I don't understand. If he had a skull fracture and concussion, why in hell did he have a deep brain stimulation done? That's dangerous even without a concurrent injury," Parks said, still puzzling through the details House had laid out for them.

"I have no idea. No one was allowed in the room, no nurses, no anesthesiologist. Just Wilson, Chase and Foreman," Simmons responded.

"Foreman, of all of them, should have known better," Parks exclaimed. "Why would they risk that?"

"I don't know. They were both tight-lipped about the whole thing. Wilson's girlfriend died. She was in the same bus accident and then Wilson left the hospital. I think Cuddy persuaded him to come back to the hospital," Simmons said.

"House risked a great deal to share that with us," Cyrus commented. "We shouldn't speculate too much on it."

"How can we not think about it?" Parks asked incredulously.

"Obviously we'll all think about it," Cyrus agreed, "but we shouldn't try to fill in the blanks with our imagination. If we prove trustworthy, maybe he'll tell us more. The best thing to do with what he's shared is to look at his actions and words in light of what's happened to him, to try to understand him better."

Parks and Simmons nodded in agreement. "It certainly puts some things in perspective," Simmons remarked. "But it makes the way Wilson is treating him even more despicable. Wilson was there, right in the heart of it all."

"True, but again, we only have the barest of details. We need to be careful not to jump to conclusions and just work with what we have before us," Cyrus cautioned them.

Cyrus returned to the cabin about an hour later, finding House lounged in bed reading a medical journal. Cyrus nodded in greeting and went through to the bathroom, taking a shower and changing into his sleep clothes and climbed into his own bed with a book of his own. They read in silence for a while then House set aside the journal and sat up on the edge of the bed.

"Can we talk?" House asked nervously.

"Sure," Cyrus answered, putting his book on the bedside table and sitting up to face him. "What's on your mind?"

"What did Simmons and Parks say about what I told you?"

"They expressed a great deal of concern that you underwent a deep brain stimulation with a concurrent head injury. They find Wilson's behavior even more out of line, learning this," Cyrus answered.

"They didn't switch to the Cuddy/Wilson camp? I figured they would once they found out the truth about my so called sabbatical."

"No, they didn't switch camp. Neither did I."

"You knew what really happened, didn't you? You didn't look as surprised as they did," House asked, watching him closely to see if Cyrus would be fully open with him.

"Yes, I did. There was some gossip around the hospital when you left and when you returned that I pieced together with my own knowledge. Dr. Cuddy also came and disclosed it to me just before you started back to work. She wanted me to monitor your behavior and follow-up care for the board."

"Did you? Report to the board?"

"No, I didn't. I didn't have an issue with making observations on your behavior in the workplace but I would not make any observations on follow-up care without your consent. She told me to forget she asked."

House looked down and away from Cyrus, uncomfortable to have his guess confirmed and yet surprised that Cyrus didn't try to deny it or downplay it.

"House, listen to me. What happened to you is terrible and I'm certain it was disturbing and frightening to experience. I know it would be for me, to doubt my mind and my senses. But you did the right thing; you sought treatment, got counseling. You were strong enough to come back to work. I don't know all the details about what happened but my professional opinion is that you need to give yourself credit for climbing back up out of the abyss."

House nodded after a moment but said nothing more. He put in the earphones for his iPod and got into bed. Cyrus went back to reading his book, understanding that this was as far as House could go on the topic right now.

The next morning, House was up and gone before Cyrus even woke up. He went down to the lakeshore to think for a while and have a bit of time alone. When he became aware of the rest of the group beginning to stir, he got up and slowly made his way up to the hall to get a cup of coffee. Just as he finished filling his cup he sensed Cuddy walking up next to him.

"Good morning, Dr. House."

"Good morning, Dr. Cuddy. Coffee?" House asked, offering to fill her cup.

"Yes, please," Cuddy said with a smile. House filled her cup and put the pot back on the burner. "House, can we talk for a minute?"

"Okay," House agreed and nodded toward a table off to one side of the common area where they both sat down.

"First, I just want to say that I'm sorry," Cuddy began. "I should have told you what the board was doing and what this weekend really was about. It's just… I don't want you to lose your job and I really didn't think you'd come here, that you'd actually participate. And I'm sorry I didn't ask what happened yesterday and if you were all right before going off on you."

"Okay," House said, nodding and relaxing a bit in his seat. "I don't want to lose my job, just for the record. I still wish you would have just been up front with me."

"Why did you switch cabins?" Cuddy asked with some concern. "I thought that rooming you with Wilson would help ease the pain of the weekend and not being on our team."

"Well, why wouldn't you think that?" House acknowledged. "Wilson seems really wound up and defensive this weekend. He's moved from lecturing to biting, snide remarks. When he referred to me as a lost cause and said that he was just a sucker for them, I decided I couldn't stay there when there was an offer to go somewhere else. This weekend is stressful enough without fighting with Wilson too. So I switched cabins. I thought he'd chill out but…" he broke off with an uncomfortable shrug.

"I know. He went on quite a rant at dinner. That's what got me thinking about our argument," Cuddy sympathized. "Do you have any idea what might be bothering him?"

"No, not at all."

"Hmm. I'll see if I can get anything out of him. So, can I ask you about the seminar? You seem to be getting on pretty good with your team," Cuddy asked hopefully.

"It's surprisingly not as bad as I expected it to be," House replied with a small smile. "Even Parks and I are getting on decently. I can tough it out."

"Yeah, I've got to admit, you're a pretty tough guy," Cuddy answered with a grin. "So what's your skit about?"

"Uh, uh! That's top secret information," House teased with a grin.

"Hey, can't blame a girl for trying," Cuddy sighed. "See you later," she added, getting up and heading over to talk to the other two members of her team that had just come in for coffee themselves.

House was relieved to have hashed things out with Cuddy. If only this spat with Wilson could be solved as easily.

Cyrus, Simmons and Parks arrived with a group of people, including Wilson who pointedly ignored House and his tablemates. They settled at their table and passed around the coffee pot and fixings in amiable silence.

"Cuddy and I negotiated a cease-fire this morning," House announced.

"I'm glad to hear it," Cyrus said as he sipped his coffee and surreptitiously read House's body language. He still seemed to be on edge, though not as much as he had been the day before.

Parks pulled the question box first and shuffled around for a slip. "What do you think the secret to a good life is? Gees, philosophy first thing in the morning?" she complained good-naturedly. "Hmm. I think it's taking care of yourself, doing the right thing when a situation presents itself."

"Come on, that's cliché," House said, rolling his eyes. "Taking care of yourself can tip over into selfishness and doing the right thing is situational ethics."

"Not entirely, there are some things that society considers the right thing to do, so it isn't down to just one person's idea of it," Parks answered. "So if you do the right thing according to your society, your cultural group, then I think you'll live a good life.

"I think it's moderation in all things," Simmons offered. "Like House said, taking care of yourself can tip over into selfishness or even narcissism."

"Moderation is a good plan to follow," Cyrus agreed. "Going to extremes generally causes some type of issues."

"What would you say the secret to a good life is?" Simmons asked House.

House sighed and picked up a couple of coffee stirrers to fiddle with. "What about my life gives you the idea that I know what the secret to a good life is?" he asked, hoping to get out of answering the question. It didn't work; his tablemates remained quiet, waiting for his answer. "I think that living a good life is being true to yourself. You can't live a lie and live a good life."

The other three considered this and nodded in agreement. "I think you can fake it for a long time but it will ultimately catch up with you and blow your life apart," Simmons commented. He pulled the box to himself and pulled a question slip. "What do you value most in life? Wow, these are deep this morning." Simmons took a moment to think about his answer. "I think what I value most in life is getting to do the work, I've wanted to be a doctor since I was six or seven years old."

"Isn't the socially acceptable answer to that question supposed to be your family?" House said with a smirk. "Something along the lines of wishing you hadn't spent so much time at the office on your death bed?"

"Yeah, well," Simmons acknowledged with a shrug. "I like my work."

"Good for you. I like a man who follows his own drummer," House said approvingly.

"I guess you'd have to count me as socially acceptable," Parks said. "I value my daughter most of all."

"I value my closest friends most," Cyrus put in. "What about you, House?"

"Music. If I couldn't practice medicine anymore, I'd still want to have my music."

Cyrus nodded and pulled his slip from the box. "What is important to you in your life right now? Hm. Right now in my life I'm looking into spirituality. Not religion," he added, seeing House's rolled eyes, "spirituality. My place in the greater scheme of the universe."

"Aren't spirituality and religion the same thing?" Parks asked.

"No, I don't believe they are," Cyrus answered. "To me, religion refers to a specific set of rites and rules that like-minded people adhere to. Spirituality represents the individual's belief and relationship with the intangible."

House huffed at the idea of spirituality but for once held his tongue on the subject. The time he'd spent with these three had been surprisingly good; he decided to heed the conversation rule to avoid religion and politics as topics. He pulled the box to himself and withdrew a slip.

"What gift have you received that you will always treasure?" House read aloud then leaned back thoughtfully. "There have been a few," he admitted after a moment. "John Henry's trumpet. The handheld video game from that autistic boy. If I had to pick one above all the rest… it would be this watch," he said, pulling back his shirtsleeve to show them the watch.

"All the bells and whistles, I see," Simmons said after taking a look at it. "From family or a patient?" he asked.

"Dr. Kutner," House said, dropping his eyes to stare at the watch on his wrist.

Simmons remained silent, unsure what to say, as did Parks. Although both wanted to say something comforting, neither knew House well enough to know what he would find comforting.

"My most treasured gift is several volumes of personal journals by my mentor," Cyrus said after a respectful moment of silence for the late Dr. Kutner. "He wrote them during my training under him, things he thought about late at night, what he really thought about me. It was eye-opening to know his thoughts and opinions from the perspective of a confidante instead of as a student."

"Mine is a box full of handmade doilies, handkerchiefs, and shade pulls that my great grandmother crocheted and tatted," Parks said with a fond smile at the thought.

"My aunt made up a family history book," Simmons said. "She got pictures and genealogy of course, but she also got many family members to write up memories and stories. It gave me a better sense of who these people were and not just names with birth dates. That was almost twelve years ago and in that time a lot of the family members who knew the oldest stories have passed away. I've even had it scanned to digital so there's a backup copy of it."

After breakfast, the morning activity was handed out. "Good morning," the program leader said with a smile. "Each of you will be receiving a baggie full of puzzle pieces which make up a small puzzle. The small puzzles join together to form one large puzzle, so the outside pieces in your baggie may or may not go with your puzzle. Also there are one or two pieces in each baggie that belong to one of your teammates puzzles. The winning team gets pizza and wings for lunch today. Enjoy and good luck."

House looked back at his team with a grin. "Sweet. Pizza and wings for lunch," he crowed.

"Only if we win," Parks reminded him.

"Oh, we will," House assured her. "Here's what we should do; pull out all of the outside pieces and fit them together first. Then we can work on the main element in our puzzles as well as fitting in the pieces adjoining the edges. Should be easy to drop the elements into their proper place once we have some adjoining pieces and patterns to match up."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Simmons agreed. Parks and Cyrus both nodded and they quickly set to work sorting out the edge pieces. They managed to get the border assembled with little trouble and set to work on their smaller puzzles. House's ability to see patterns so quickly and easily proved to be an advantage. He had his puzzle assembled in a couple of minutes, spotting his missing pieces in the others' pieces with ease. He turned his attention to alternately helping them get their puzzles together and fitting in the next row of pieces on the borders. They were finished with their entire puzzle well before any other team, to House's confident delight, and were awarded the pizza and wings lunch tickets.

The team went out into the common room where House settled at the piano and with a teasing grin played the theme to "Jeopardy!" at full volume before pushing the damper pedal and settling in to play for a little bit.

"I'm going to take a walk," Parks announced. "Anyone want to come with me?"

"Sure," Simmons agreed.

"Cyrus?"

"No thank you. I think I'll read some of my book and listen to him play."

"Come back an hour before lunch," House called out. "We need to settle on a first draft of lyrics. Can't choreograph the movements until we have the lyrics finalized."

"We'll be here," Simmons answered as he followed Parks out the door. House continued to quietly play the piano until most of the teams were done before slipping away back to the cabin. Cyrus decided to give him the privacy and remained in the common room reading.


	7. Chapter 7 - Greg and Cyrus Talk

House lay on his bed in the cabin thinking about the situation with Wilson. Simmons had a point; it did seem like Wilson was jealous, as though House was cheating on him but that was ridiculous. They were best friends. Wilson spent time with other people all the time. Why would he be jealous if House did the same? Wilson told him to make nice and get along; he did just that and now Wilson was still angry. That made House angry. He didn't like to be put into the damned if you do, damned if you don't spot by Wilson. Although, he could admit to having put Wilson there a time or two. Maybe this was just karma biting him in the ass.

Cyrus had him stymied. Why did House find him so comfortable to be around? He actually felt like he could talk to him about Wilson, if he wanted to. He was easy to be with, easy to play cards with. Cyrus made an effort to understand House as he was, not to try to mold him into his own ideal friend. Wilson used to do that, he mused. Before Amber. Maybe Wilson still held her death against him. Maybe he'd never let that go unless House changed his personality completely. Could he do that? Did he want to do that? Even for Wilson? House sighed heavily as he realized the answer was no. Oh, he could work on changing some parts. After all, he was practicing do just that this weekend to get along with the group and was pleasantly surprised to see that it was working. But change his entire personality? No, he didn't think that was possible without brain damage and he'd risked enough of his brain for Wilson's sake already. And even if he did, there was the disturbing chance that he would be so different that Wilson wouldn't like him at all anymore.

Cyrus returned to the cabin about an hour later and found House seated in a chair staring forlornly out the window. Frowning with concern, Cyrus approached him and lightly touched his shoulder. "House? Are you alright?"

House let out his breath like he'd been holding it until Cyrus arrived. "No. I'm not alright."

"Is there anything I can do that would help you?"

"Can I talk to you? To the psychiatrist you?" House asked, not daring to look at Cyrus in case he was rejected as he feared he might be.

"Yes, you can," Cyrus answered immediately, sitting down on the bed. "To me the psychiatrist or to me your new friend, whichever of us can help you more right now."

House finally met his eyes, just for a moment, gratitude and uncertainty flashed in equal parts in that quick look.

"Maybe both of them," he muttered quietly. "I don't know what to think about Wilson and I need to figure something out since him and Cuddy are my ride back to Princeton."

Cyrus didn't point out that he would gladly give House a ride back to Princeton and stayed on the topic of Wilson. "Alright. What has Wilson said to you this weekend that might offer some explanation?"

"He's made repeated references about the board wanting to break my tenure and reminding me that his and Cuddy's votes won't be enough to save me this time. That I need to decide whether I want my job enough to suck it up and play nice. He said he knew that I was going to blow this apart and he was just waiting for it to happen. Then he said he was a sucker for lost causes," House recounted. "It's like he's been distancing himself from me starting a couple of days before we drove up here."

"What do you think Wilson wants from you?"

"I don't know!" House growled. "No matter what I do seems to be wrong. It's like he wants me to do exactly what he tells me to do. But I've never done that, even when he was right. Why would he think that would change now?"

"Maybe he thinks you will be easier to manipulate with your job on the line," Cyrus offered.

"And yet he seems convinced that I'll screw this weekend up and lose the job."

"Is it possible he has some ace up his sleeve to play? That he wants to swoop in and save the day once you've 'screwed it up' as you said?"

"It's possible," House admitted. "Probably thinks that would give him some leverage over me if he did. I wonder what he wants the leverage for."

"Would it help his career in any way?"

"Only if he's looking to move up from department head to a supervisory position, which I suppose he might be. He's been pouring so much of himself into his cancer patients over the years that I'm surprised he hasn't burned out before now."

"How would having leverage over you help him to do that? Hypothetically speaking," Cyrus asked.

"It would depend on what position he wanted to try for. There are two that could be opening up this year, based on age and health of the current holders. Chief Operating Officer that oversees all the department heads is one. The other is Executive Medical Director. That one would make more sense since the position oversees case management, performance and communications. Maybe he thinks if he can prove he can make me do what he wants, it will look good on his resume."

"Possible. What would it benefit him personally?"

House let out his breath in a huff. "I don't know. That he finally one upped me? Maybe he wants me to come crawling to him for help even though he's warned me not to. That would be right for his idiom. I just can't figure out why he's acting like I'm cheating on him though. He has no problem running off with every Sue, Betty, and Mary that comes along."

"Yes, but you usually are waiting for him to get back to you. This time, he's the one being metaphorically left behind and he's finding out it's not a very pleasant feeling. In order to ease his pain, he has to get you to accept the blame. Not a healthy way of thinking whatsoever," Cyrus pointed out. "I would speculate that since you never seemed to have many friends that it never crossed his mind that you might actually make some. That he thought he could rely on you waiting, alone and needy, when he was ready to get his fix of helping someone again. Not to mention that entangled in this mess, I think he really does like you a great deal. Maybe even more than a friend."

"More than a friend?" House repeated. "You mean, more as in like a boyfriend? Wilson acts gay but he's always been with women. Lots of women."

"Hmm. Overcompensating? Look, I don't know if he's gay, straight, or bi, nor do I care. I'm just speculating as to why he's so possessive of you. You have a reputation of being equally protective of him around the hospital. What do you think of him? Could you imagine a relationship with him?"

House bobbed his head from side to side, trying to weigh out his thoughts before answering. "I could have. When we lived together when I came out of Mayfield, it was good. I bugged him, he bugged me. The neighbors all thought we were a gay couple. We were both trying to date the same women in the building and he went so far as to propose marriage to me in a restaurant to break it up."

"Did you accept or leave him broken hearted?" Cyrus asked, partly joking and partly curious.

"Neither, actually. We just dropped it. Neither of us got the girl, she was too fed up with our shenanigans. I always wondered what he would have done if I'd said yes. But then Sam came back into his life and everything went to hell."

"Perhaps he's having trouble with that relationship and is trying to make sure that his fall back relationship, you, will be waiting for him the moment he needs it," Cyrus guessed. "At any rate, what is going on with Wilson isn't anything that you've done or said, and it isn't anything that you've not done or said. Something has shifted in his world and made him uncomfortably unstable. He's looking at you, someone he sees as in a state of constant instability, to make himself feel steadier. Only this time, you're the steadier one. He doesn't know how to react to that, so he's lashing out at you, trying to destabilize you so that his world goes back to normal. Don't let him do that to you; he doesn't have the right."

House nodded that he understood, but Cyrus could see that part of him was still tempted to appease Wilson by any means, even if it meant blowing apart the fragile network he'd starting building this weekend and Cyrus was determined to try and stop him. It was old habits, entrenched but unhealthy, that made House willing to destabilize himself for Wilson's sake. He'd seen that pattern repeated over and over at the hospital though usually in a smaller and less dramatic fashion.

"Can I ask you a personal question, House?"

"Okay," House answered hesitantly. "I thought we were already at personal questions."

"I have the feeling this one is loaded with issues. Don't feel pressured to answer it. If it's too much, just say so and I'll drop it."

House nodded in agreement.

"What happened when Amber died that convinced you to agree to deep brain stimulation?"

House visibly flinched away and Cyrus was about to apologize for going too far when House very quietly related the details leading up to and following Amber's death. Cyrus was silent for a long moment, processing the twisted details and implications buried in the facts.

"He still blames you for her death, doesn't he?"

"He says he doesn't."

"But you think he does. And more importantly, you blame yourself for her death."

"It was my fault. I should have called a taxi. I should have just taken the bus on my own."

"Nothing that you did, nothing that Amber did, had anything to do with the garbage truck hitting the bus and wouldn't have changed anything."

"Yes, something I did could have changed it. I could have just taken the bus instead of calling Wilson! She'd have never been there and she'd have been alive! Maybe I would have been dead, maybe I would still have survived, but I wouldn't have had to see that look in his eyes when all the pieces got put together," House argued in a tight, anguished voice.

"How long does your punishment last?"

"What?"

"You already risked your life to remember that it was Amber with you in the crash. You risked your mind to remember what had caused the fatal drug interaction. Her death and Wilson leaving you was one of the catalysts that led to your increased drug use leading to your stay at Mayfield where your sanity and your career hung in the balance. Have you paid enough to atone for calling Wilson and getting Amber instead of just getting on the bus alone?"

House's eyes lost focus as he thought through Cyrus' questions for a long moment before he hoarsely whispered, "I don't know."

"That's something you need to figure out, House. He's still using it against you, even if only because you're still using it against yourself."

"Do you think I've paid enough?"

"Yes, I do." Cyrus watched House's facial expressions as he tried to fit those simple words into his mental framework of the event and was clearly having a hard time with it. He glanced up at the clock. "It's one hour before lunch, when we agreed to meet to work on the skit. Do you want to do that? I could make an excuse for you if you need some time alone."

"No. No, I… time alone wouldn't be… let's go work on the skit," House finished, rising to his feet.

Cyrus nodded and stood, following him out the door toward the dining hall. He was relieved at House's decision to go work on the skit, since he didn't think leaving him alone would be a good idea right now. He had opened a much larger can of worms than he'd thought was there and was quite worried but at least House had been willing to talk about it.

By the time they'd worked through the first drafts of their lyrics that just needed to be cleaned up to be finalized, House had the emotional upheaval hidden from view again. Simmons and Parks had noticed something was off but working on the lyrics had sufficiently distracted them from pursuing the issue. Cyrus knew that this was a well-practiced coping mechanism that House was using and had to admit he was pretty damned good at it. Little wonder so many people in the hospital accused him of having no feelings or being cold-hearted. He wondered if Wilson even knew how deeply House had been affected by Amber's death.

Pizza and wings were brought over to the table while the rest of the group had hamburgers and fries for lunch. House gleefully dug into the treat, even teasing Dr. Cuddy by showing off a piece of pizza when she looked their way. She rolled her eyes and smiled before turning back to her table mates.

"Where's our question box?" Simmons asked, then spotted it on the table behind them and snagged it. "Okay. How do you act when you're stressed out? Yikes. I get really short tempered, unfortunately. I snap at people and usually wind up having to go around and sooth ruffled feathers the next day."

"That's a pretty common reaction," Cyrus commented. "I tend to get very controlling when I get stressed out. Kind of like, if I organize and structure everything enough that will overcome the stress."

"I constantly check and double check everything," Parks put in. "And I eat candy bars."

"So that's why that vending machine is always out of chocolate," House said with a smirk to chuckles all around the table. "When I'm stressed out…I either get very angry and yell or really quiet and drink."

Parks pulled the box over and pulled out a slip. "If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about how you living right now? Definitely. I would quit my job and spend that last year with my daughter, creating memories for her to hold onto when I was gone."

"I would have to go after my bucket list," Simmons said. "All the things that I want to do but have been putting off because of working and family and all. So I think I'd take the family with me and we'd just spend the year doing bucket list items."

"I've always wanted to travel Europe," Cyrus put in. "I'd start out in the Scotland and work my way south, through the Chunnel and do the rest of Europe by train."

"I'd like to join a band," House said. "Play some gigs and jam sessions. Maybe sling my guitar on my back and take off on my motorcycle."

Cyrus pulled a slip out of the box next. "What kind of an impact do you believe you have on people? I think I have a positive impact on people. I think people find me a little intense at times but overall friendly and understanding. I hope you three will tell me if I'm wrong there," he said with a smile though he was serious.

"I'd say you're doing pretty good on that," House said. "My impact on people is more like a wrecking ball."

"I think it's hard to have an impact on people, especially harder to have a good impact," Simmons offered. "People always seem to remember the bad more than the good."

"That's true but I think it's hard to judge the impact you have on people unless you do something big for them even though I think you can make a bigger impact on someone by doing a lot of little things for them," Parks added.

Nodding in agreement, House pulled out a slip from the box. "What are you most afraid of and what's it stopping you from doing?" He dropped the slip onto the table and just stared at the table for a long moment.

Cyrus wasn't sure that House was going to answer; this was a pretty heavy question. Of course, he could just pick something vague and go with that. No one would hold it against him if he did.

House looked up at the other three finally, giving them an assessing look. "I don't know whether to answer this or pass," he admitted. "My answer wouldn't have anything to do with work and I don't expect the truce and camaraderie to last past this weekend. If I answer honestly, it could give you all enough information to use against me at work. Don't bother saying you won't; everybody lies. I would use it, if it came down to it for something my patient needed."

"You've already done that, haven't you?" Parks asked. "Used something told in confidence to you to get what you wanted?"

"Yes. Many times," House admitted.

"The reality is that you've already told us a lot that we could use against you if we took a mind to," Simmons said quietly. "I don't imagine many people know the truth about your sabbatical. You trusted us with that. For my part, I think that whole incident answers this question pretty well and I could give you a pass on it."

"That's true," Parks agreed and Cyrus agreed as well. House met their gazes with some surprise evident on his face then slowly shook his head.

"No. I mean… I appreciate you being willing to give it a pass but… you're right. What I told you there could do more damage professionally to me than this could," House admitted.

"What about personally?" Cyrus asked, wanting him to think this decision through carefully.

"No one cares about that," House answered with a dismissive shrug.

"Of course people care about things that damage them personally," Parks protested at once.

"Well, yeah, people care about what damages them personally," House drawled back. "They just don't care about what damages me personally."

Parks frowned, a bit taken aback by his response. "Well… I think that's because everybody thinks you don't care about damaging them personally. At least, that's what it was for me, until this weekend. Getting to know you just a bit better has changed that."

House nodded, accepting her admission without rancor. "I actually knew about half of what you told me about yourselves before this weekend started. The rest was a surprise. I'm surprised you shared it with me of all people. But I swear, as long as a patient's life isn't on the line, I won't use anything you told me against you."

"So, do want to pass on the question then?" Simmons asked after a moment's silence, a little unsure whether a decision had been made or not.

"No. I'll answer it. The thing I'm most afraid of is opening up to another person. Giving them potential ammunition to use to hurt me and leaving myself vulnerable to their judgement and rejection. It stops me from having any close relationships with friends, family, coworkers or potential girlfriends."

"What about Wilson?" Simmons asked. "You've been friends with him for years, haven't you?"

"Yeah. Wilson knows more than anyone else about me. But nothing before we met. He's a yenta; he'll gossip in the name of helping me. I can't trust him with dangerous facts," House responded. "Maybe if I'd started telling him things in the beginning, it would be different now but now he thinks he knows me well. He thinks he knows me better than I know myself."

"So is that why you act like such a jerk to people sometimes?" Parks asked. "To discourage them from wanting to get close to you? Close enough to learn something personal?"

"Nailed it," House answered with a hollow grin. "Better to be the one doing the rejecting than the one being rejected. I learned that lesson young."

"Alright, I admit that right up to the first day of this weekend, I was one of the ones rejecting and judging you," Parks said. "Sorry."

"Don't say you're sorry. Sorry doesn't mean anything, doesn't change anything. You don't regret it; not based on the information you had to make the decision. You got more information, you made a different decision. Just like diagnosing patients. I've had all the sharing I can stand for the moment. See you all at the mid-afternoon activity," House said, getting up from the table. "I promise you won't have to snag my off the trails today," he added with a smirk and headed out toward the cabins.


	8. Chapter 8

After taking a short nap, House put on his jacket and headed back up to the dining hall to get a cup of coffee. The weather wasn't quite as cold as it had been but still chilly. Parks was sitting next to the fireplace but he didn't see Blackburn nor Simmons anywhere. After a short debate with himself, he decided to sit down with Parks, to test if this team building thing was really changing things as much as he felt shook up by it.

"House," she said, nodding him a hello as he sank into the chair.

"Parks. What are your reading?" he asked, noting she had a book in her lap.

"A romance novel," she admitted then held up her hands to forestall any comment by him. "I know! They're all made up, but hey, a girl can dream. Guys watch porn, that's all made up too."

House snorted and nodded in agreement.

"What did you do with your free time?" she asked after a moment.

"Took a nap. Nothing as exciting as yesterday's slip and slide down the trails in the rain."

"Yeah, I'd rather not do that again. That one rope climb we did was slippery enough, I wouldn't want to do the whole trail in a soaking rain like that," she agreed.

House chuckled and settled back to drink his coffee while she went back to her book. They stayed that way, in companionable silence until the others arrived and they all went into the dining hall.

"So what does the box have for us this afternoon?" Simmons asked as Cyrus pulled the question box over to him.

"Let's see," Cyrus said, pulling out the slip and reading it. "What is a recent book that you enjoyed and why? Hmm," he said, tapping his lips with his finger while he thought about it.

"I would have to choose _My Dearest Friend: Letters of Abigail and John Adams_. It was a great example of true partnership in marriage, one that lasted through long separations, severe hardships, and war. Abigail Adams did so much more than just take care of the farm and children while John was gone. She truly was a support and sounding board that he cherished and relied on. Their relationship gives me hope that such marriages can still exist today."

Simmons pulled the box over in front of him and pulled a slip out. "Can't say I've read any books lately to even answer that question. What about you, Parks?"

She shook her head and smiled. "Well… I read romance novels, so that's what it would have been. Not too much angst, just enough drama, the guy and the girl got together at the end. What about you, House?"

House blew out his breath and chuckled. "The last few books I've read recently were medical journals in various languages. But I did enjoy them. Lots of rare diseases, some new treatments to try, things to stump my team with."

Simmons grinned and opened up his slip. "What is one word you would use to describe your team? Hmm. Just one word… overworked."

The other three laughed but nodded, acknowledging the truth of how busy the ER was.

"I would describe my team as methodical," Parks offered. "Lots of dotting i's and crossing t's in pediatrics."

"I try to teach my team to be calm," Cyrus said. "When patients are agitated and out of touch with reality, it's amazing what remaining calm can do, both for staff and for patients."

"I'd call my team determined," House said after a moment's thought. "Determined to find the diagnosis, determined to prove me wrong."

"Don't you find that counterproductive?" Parks asked. "That they are so determined to prove you wrong, sometimes over anything else?"

"Nope," House answered. "I want them to try to out diagnose me. I want them to make a diagnosis and stick to it, even if I tell them they're wrong."

"What if they are wrong?" Simmons asked. "Chances are better that your diagnosis is right than theirs."

"But that's not the point. If they're ever going to learn to do this by themselves, then they have to be able to stick to their diagnosis with everyone around them telling them they're wrong, with even test results leading them in a different direction. They learn to do that by first being absolutely determined to prove me wrong," House explained.

The other three doctors looked at him, still confused about his method of dealing with his team. House shook his head and grabbed the box. Now wasn't the time to try to explain the way he worked his team.

"Oh geez. When are you the happiest?" he groaned, tossing the slip down onto the table. "Happiness is overrated."

"Oh come on, you've got to have something that makes you feel happy, if only for a moment," Simmons prodded.

House's expression darkened then he looked away from them, across the dining hall at Wilson for a brief moment, before fixing his gaze firmly on the offending slip of paper. "I did. I don't anymore."

An uncomfortable silence ruled for a few seconds. "Oh come on. You can't base your own happiness on whether or not Wilson is friends with you," Parks interjected. Cyrus started to object but she held up her hand to stop him. "What about your music? You told us that was something you'd hate to lose even over practicing medicine. Doesn't your music make you happy?"

House looked up, still wearing a dark expression though he was clearly considering her question. "Music makes me… feel things. Not all of them happy. But… for the context of the question, yes, overall, music makes me happy," he added, nodding as though he was just realizing that.

Maybe he was just realizing that, Cyrus thought.

"That's good," Parks encouraged with a small smile. "Music, what kind you play depending on what mood you're in or wish you were in, is something you control. That's much better than relying on the changing whims of another person to make you happy."

House didn't reply in anyway, just set the box in front of her, ready to step out of the spotlight. Parks accepted the box and the change of topic, pulling out a slip.

"What do you think you'll be doing in twenty years?" she read then tapped her fingertips to her lips while she thought for a moment. "In twenty years, I think I'll be deep into planning my daughter's wedding," she answered with a smile.

"I do hope you'll let your daughter take the lead on that," Simmons teased as the other two men smirked.

"Maybe," Parks answered, returning their smirks.

"I plan on buying a boat, so that's where I'll be in twenty years," Simmons offered.

"I hope to have finally finished writing a book," Cyrus said, looking over at House. "How about you?"

"I'll be dead," he shrugged casually.

"What?" Parks asked sharply.

"If another infarction doesn't get me, liver failure from opiate use will. I'll be dead," he repeated with flat resignation.

Parks was silent, as were Simmons and Cyrus. They all suddenly realized the harsh reality; that House wasn't exaggerating his claim. House looked at all three of their faces then looked down at the table, waiting for them to snap out of it. After a moment, Cyrus cleared his throat, drawing their attention.

"I wonder what the activity for this afternoon is. We need to work on our skit, especially our falsettos," he added, grinning at Simmons as he jumped to a much lighter topic.

"Uh, yeah, right. Well, we can always notch our belts too tight, that ought to do it," Simmons answered, slowly at first then smiling back.

The afternoon activity involved the entire group. An area in the front of the room was taped off from the tables, forming a large box.

"Now, we'll ask a series of questions," the administrator announced. "If you answer yes to the question, come up and stand in the box."

The questions were basic, meant to point out things that they had in common with each other. Switch sides if you are single. Married. Have children. Have grandchildren. Speak another language. Play a musical instrument. The composition of the groups on each side of the line changed with every question and the questions became more specific and a bit more personal. Each time a question was asked a picture of the participants who answered yes was taken.

House was intrigued after initially wishing he'd skipped the afternoon activity. He started paying more attention to the people around him in the box. Some of the questions got into some sensitive areas. He found himself answering yes, that he had been bullied and also yes, that he had bullied someone else. Yes, he was lonely. The questions and pictures went on for thirty minutes before the administrator pronounced the activity finished.

"We will be making a picture booklet for each of you, with the coordinating question captioned on them. Thank you all for being honest and so willing to participate."

House retreated to the piano bench, followed by his table mates who settled in around him.

"That was really interesting," Simmons commented as he took a seat.

"I'm glad they are handing out picture packets," Parks said. "I really didn't think about keeping track of who was in the box right away. I want to go back through and really study the pictures with the questions."

"It will be good to have the pictures to study," Cyrus agreed.

"So go over to the props box and pick out what you want to wear for the skit," House prompted them, preferring not to talk about the activity anymore right now.

The other three got up and went over to the box, beginning to root through all the props. House was playing an improvised tune on the piano, just fiddling around while he waited for them to come back.

A few minutes later a feather boa was draped around his neck and a pair of huge plastic sunglasses with fake rhinestones worthy of Elton John were put on the piano in front of him.

"Really?" he guffawed, flipping one end of the boa up and over his shoulder then put the sunglasses on his face.

"Definitely you," Simmons laughed, wrapping his own boa around his neck. Each one of them had a boa and sunglasses and Parks had picked out a lime green tutu that matched her boa to wear as well.

They spent an hour working out some choreography and practicing it, then running through their lyrics before breaking up and heading back to their cabins.

"This song and dance will be a blast if we can keep the choreography straight," Cyrus said as he sat down on his bed.

"Yeah. It'll be a blast even if you screw it up. Just milk any mistake like it was planned," House said, settling down for a nap.

"You want me to wake you up for dinner?"

"Yeah. Give me 45 minutes warning."

"You got it," Cyrus agreed, picking up his book and settling in to read.


End file.
